Charming, Bubby
by IRDovey
Summary: Another approach to the world of SOA. ‘I guess it’s another one of those who spend their time finding imaginary holes in the walls and compare to Sally’s on the next floor up.’ Jax/OOC. Read on.
1. Capítulo Um

Capítulo Um

"…_and the stars fell out of the sky…and the tears rolled into the ocean…"_

Bump.

"…_and now I'm looking for a(h) reason…why…you've even set my world…"_

Her tires were going to fall off any minute now.

"_Into motion…" _

And she wondered what she felt was so wrong in her actions.

"Get it together," she told herself, hushed tones barely heard over the music, but then again, who was there to listen? Her only companion, that deceivingly smooth asphalt, couldn't give her answers logically. "You'll be in Charming in no time," she smiled, "and you'll find the problem, fix it, and be on the way back to civilization, wait, just wait." As luck always has it, the landscaping was dry, and obviously in need of "decent advertising," she muttered, as it stood, her mind wandered enough through the thick of Miami traffic, and as the saying goes "if one can drive in Miami, one can drive anywhere." Obviously there were some places that could be ruled out.

Pulling up in a visitors parking space (which thankfully didn't require change); she let out a suppressed breath and stepped out. Of course, she knew she stuck out like a sore thumb- a _tropical _– sore thumb. Someone, the _wrong_ someone, she thought idly, was bound to see her and there would be Mr. Lucifer, clutching a handmade invitation to his fall fashion show, asking her if she wanted crumpets and _café con leite_.

Finding the room wasn't especially hard, staying within the buildings cold and white surroundings, however, was the real challenge. 'The nurses here worry more about keeping busy than being legally bound…'

Here came the other trifling ordeal: opening 215B.

"Breathe."

"Talking to yourself, miss, is the beginning of all sorts of problems."

Humph, Smart ass. Today wasn't the day for overzealous nurses. 'I guess it's another one of those who spend their time finding imaginary holes in the walls and comparing them to Sally's on the next floor up.'

'These grump episodes better subside, I'm stuck here for quite some seconds.' She wasn't usually this cynical, borderline mental, even. Finding out she had volunteer work (because in her position, this situation in any other way could be recorded and used against her) in the backwards town of Charming the same day she was _forced _to take a vacation from the practice in the middle of the most important and diplomatic…'enough,' she guessed the nurse was right. The internal talking brought more problems than it solved.

Turning, a small smirk arose as she got a look at the _doctor _standing behind her, and with that she promptly spun around and entered the room. She had heard plenty of her, and from what she recollected, the greetings weren't necessary.

"And here I thought you weren't going to show that pretty face of yours in our town" Bobby "Elvis" Munson said, knowing any show of doubt of her would set her on fire.

"You big teddy bear," she giggled, "still acting tough through those fraying sides of yours, huh?" He gave her a slim grin, and motioned for her to join him. Plopping down on the chair beside his bed, she realized just how long it had been since she vacationed, 'heh, vacationed,' in Charming.

"I appreciate you coming down to see me doll," he waved his hand, knowing she would soon speak up and say something along the lines of "of course!" or "don't even say it Bubby!" but he knew the sacrifice she was making in coming, and certainly understood the implications that could put a weight on her professional life.

Relaxing, he flexed his hand and took hers in his, patting the soft skin of her fingers with his colossal paws. "How's your mãe?" she squinted, his tough accent endearing, "muita boa Bubby, é Clarice?" with a roll of his eyes he knew this was the same girl he had grown to love, full of wit and sadness, the years not making much of a difference as far as he was concerned.

"He's doing well; the club has been having some problems here and there." That much was evident, hence her Bubby lying in a hospital bed whilst the rest of the club…

"I talked to Clay yesterday; let him know you were coming, so all is ready when you are doll."

"Now or never, huh Bubby?" She looked around, noticing how he ravaged the "food" the hospital provided, his full beard, his ever disheveled hair; how things tended not to change if not with full allowance of the self.

He nodded, the blankets keeping him warm tangled with the various I.V's hooked to his wrists. "Have you found a place yet?" She nodded, lying, she knew if it were any other way he would demand she stay at the shop.

"There's a house by a lake," '_somewhere' _she fibbed, disregarding the raised bear eyebrow, covered in plasters. "I called the landlord, he said he would rent it out, it was reasonably priced." End of conversation.

"Alright doll," he knew any attempt on his part was futile, and instead settled for some reruns of "Happy Days" playing on the hospitals dinosaur of a television. She was happy to just sit there and listen to the 1950's jokes and covert sexual connotations until she saw how dark it had become.

Charming was a scary place at night, and if it weren't for the nice chills in the evening, not worth even stepping onto the front porch for a nightcap. 'Maybe that house will have a porch,' she had always wanted one of those, ever since her parents had divorced and moved away from their first house. The only house other house in her lifetime that had such a nice porch, or one at all at that.

Yawning, she gathered her things quietly, leaving behind a note she had brought him.

"Read that after, Bubby, and I'll see you tomorrow around the same time," she needed enough time to go find that fictional house off next to some lake and a porch.

"Alright doll," he said again, "take the weekend off, and start Monday, no need to worry about things right away."

Nodding, she maneuvered herself around the starched white sheets and gave him a tight hug and placed a kiss on his gruff cheek. And with a lopsided smile and a wave, she was off again.

'Here's to more asphalt."

A/N: The lyrics are from Sam Sparro's "Black and Gold," not owned by me. Of course, the show is also not owned by me.

Translations: "Mãe" is mother, _café con leite _is a hispanic beverage of milk and espresso, and "muita boa" means "very well."

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	2. Capítulo Dois

Capítulo Dois

Three A.M. found her sitting at her laptop, online shopping. Of course, if Charming, quaint little town that it was, had a decent shopping district, she would not have to go through this.

"Aha! That would look cute with…the phone." At this late of night it could not be many people, except, unless, one could count her mother to call her from home to let her know she was going to bed.

Odd? Yes. Unexpected? Not in the least.

"Àlo?"

"Kor, I'm going to sleep, ok?" Yes, there it was.

The weekend had gone by rather quickly, and she guessed this was the last Sunday she would spend in peace, all things considered. She had been able to get a hold of a Mr. Roper, who rented out his two-storied house during the summers. Not by a lake, but more like in the middle of nowhere (but then again, that would be Charming itself), she did in fact, get a porch.

She spent the next two days dusting, sweeping, and calling the practice to make sure everyone was still alive and running without her, and to her great displeasure, everyone was.

She had expected chaos, printers that had gone these past two days with not a shred of ink, mismatched pens and out of order coffee pots, but she figured it was not Christmas yet.

She had settled. That is, six pairs of Michael Kors and two Choos later.

Bubby was doing better; all he asked for was visits once or twice a day… and better food. From what she heard, the club only came when they were fretting about something or other. She had yet to meet up with any of the club; she needed that respite for as long as possible.

Bubby kept her out of the ruckus.

'I'll call it a morning, the couch can't possibly be moved anymore' worrying her lip, she climbed into the sheets she had stuffed in her trunk, and promptly fell asleep.

Since she had called it, the morning saw to it that she would not forget was day it was, 'Monday.'

Nothing was worse than knowing she had not gotten enough sleep, that would require extra concealer, and that then meant she would need the air in her rental to stay extra freezing.

Pulling on a high waisted gray pencil skirt and some Steven pumps (delicious as they were), she gave herself a once over, and prepared herself for what would be the longest month of her life.

'Let's hope I am wrong, and I hope no one tries to give me anal beads' she giggled at that one.

Watching herself pull on a bewildered expression while a blonde-haired woman handed her anal beads while promoting "it's warm sensation" was something, although random, that she was expecting. She reminded herself that she would live healthier if not everything happened in her head.

The Mini she had rented was a cute distraction from Henry, her car back home. She guessed if this was the time for her to feel like a sausage, she would take it. Moreover, considering she rented it at a reasonably priced place, the sausage idea was not only attractive, but also cheap.

She parked, put the car in reverse, and cursed, pulled up to the spot again, and then reversed again. This was harder than she made it out to be, poor Bubby. Thinking he had her figured out. She would not doubt he had spoken to Clay.

There he was, standing in front of the door, smirking. 'Ah, Clarice,' she thought, yes, Bubby definitely knew her too well. Enough for him to make sure Clay would gently thrust her into the world.

Giving up, she pulled one leg, the two, out, made her way over to the sunglass and leathered up blonde.

"Clarice, how I've missed you so," she gave a small laugh, and fixed her skirt again, pulling her headband further back through her short black bob. Anal hair cut to go with her crew cut image. Always came in handy when entering mature themed places.

"Ya look beautiful Kor, almost look too clean to come give 'Clarice' a hug," his words didn't match his actions, for he stood with his arms wide open, waiting for her sanitized self to come in contact with his worn leather.

Responding to that stimulus, she nodded and let herself be engulfed in his fatherly hug, moving her large handbag to better access him. She wondered where Gemma was, where there was a Clarice, there was a Gemma, as was her saying.

"Never Clarice, those old cows you throw on in the mornings don't turn me off in the least," came the retort, along with a snort. Very unladylike indeed, behaviors she would not dare exhibit elsewhere.

"I was told you come to help us out with the bookkeeping," he winked, "and I'm glad Elvis has someone we can all trust."

She smiled, really smiled, for the compliment meant more than he knew. Gosh only knows how anywhere else it would be simply expected.

Here, she felt more relaxed, not counting the rival gangs (which Bubby so nicely filled her in on), or the internal problems.

Escorted in, she took in the various couches littered in a corner, the screens, and the girls who eyed her up and down. She was not up for this, she knew, other females were never her forte.

Hours later found her sorting through old papers, billing, business reports or lack thereof. She knew that the previous owner, LuAnn, had been doing some "risky business" of her own. As if having girls being "plowed" left and right did not occupy most of her time.

It was at that point, that she was glad she was not in charge of screenplays.

She had put most of the information into her laptop (on an external hard drive, of course) and she figured she would leave it for Bubby when she left. The ancient computer they had in the office put her to shame.

"Excuse me," looking up, she recognized the full beard of the clubs most silent leaning on the doorframe. She blushed.

Standing up, she reached out her hand in a formal greeting. It was met with a raised eyebrow and a firm handshake, the ridicule would begin thusly.

"What can I do for you?"

A small chuckle came, and she felt stupid for being so professional when she need not be, this was, after all, just Opie.

"Kor, Kor, Kor, you leave for years and come back all corporate, huh?" she signed, knowing that the jig, so to speak, was up.

"Opie, Opie, Opie still wearing that jacket I see," it was once (many really) said that a tell tale sign of attraction was the mirroring of the other persons actions. In this case, it was null.

"Ready for some lunch, Princess?" he noticed her furrowed brow, the pouting lips; he knew the dislike that stemmed from the club thinking she was some uptight, spoilt "Princess?"

"Opie, would you like to be called Pauper?" she questioned, he had made his way onto her desk, facing her. Grabbing her shoulders, he gave her a big cuddle and said, "you can call me Frog for all I care, let's have some lunch, you look like you need some food on those clothes."

Rolling her eyes, she got his little joke and gave in. She remembered spending time with Opie a few years back, when everything was simpler and there were not any explosions or the newest "Hitlers" in town.

"Fine, your treat then, considering you asked," she stuck her tongue out, and he caught it with his fingers. A game they used to play when they were younger, "who can shut up the fastest?"

Those were the days.

When she said what she felt, and felt what she said.

Sadly, it did not apply much anymore.

Two scuffles and several curses later, she hung on tight to his torso as he sped down that famous road of Charming. She didn't know exactly how she came to be on his bike, her tight skirt pulled up to allow what little comfort she could get on the back of his Harley.

Everyone knew she was not a fan of such "dangerous" contraptions, and remembered how she constantly made sure Opie had his helmet on tight before letting him leave. Death was not in her ten-year plan.

They got to the diner, and she feebly made to pull down her skirt and fix her periwinkle blouse, making sure her hair was not all over the place. She noticed another Harley there.

Contrary to what others may have thought, her dealings with the club had been kept to a minimum during her previous vacation.

Two coffees and a meal later, Opie caught her up on Charming news, which ironically was anything short of. She was glad she had not brought Henry.

Paying for him again would cut those virtual shopping trips down considerably.

"Its safe for me to be here Opie?" she could not eat anymore, one of her flaws, as self-prescribed, was her love of food. Being surprised with food was a good as getting material things, easily.

"Sure, I'll make sure the club is always here to help out Princess," looking out of the window, his hands played with the chipping Formica on the cafeteria table, quite different from the _Panaderias _in Miami. Here, no one yelled on their cells or cut in front of her in lines.

"That would be great, although I think Bubby probably beat you on that one," she mentioned the time, and told him they, or rather she, should be getting back to work.

"Who's Harley was that outside?" she hadn't seen any other leather clad males stomping around, brooding about life around the diner.

"Jax's, he's probably running some errands for Tara," ah, Tara. Correct. The doctor from the hospital, she guessed that would be an awkward hello soon, on Tara's part of course. She had been called "emotionally detached" one too many times.

"I'll make sure you meet the rest of the gang, for now let's get you back to work Princess."

Smiling, she agreed. How she wished this was another vacation.

A/N: _Panaderia _is like a cafeteria.

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